3. Chapter Three #2
At last, Mrs. Danton stopped and retrieved the keys from her belt. When the door opened, Margaret’s breath caught. The room was twice the size of hers and Evie’s. Three large king beds sat in three corners and a large closet sat in the fourth.
The walls were covered in soft gray wallpaper with teal blue and lavender damask patterns. Each bed was layered with crisp white linens, embroidered duvets, and plush decorative pillows. The mahogany headboards, carved with delicate filigree, added a touch of warmth to the room.
The bedroom also featured a seating area near the large window, where two plush armchairs faced each other, separated by a small coffee table.
The view beyond the window was breathtaking with a spacious balcony beckoning Margaret to step outside.
She turned her head, observing a grand fireplace with a large painting of the Blue Ridge Mountains hanging above it.
Margaret inwardly sighed, thinking of home.
The painting was like a mirror into her little world.
Marjorie grinned and made her way to the large double-door wardrobe with hand-carved designs of vines and roses.
She quickly opened the door, revealing an array of elegant clothing from silk evening gowns to fur coats that seemingly could fit any of them.
The shelves were lined with polished and sequined shoes, along with different colors of cloche and floppy sun hats.
“Look at these gowns! I’m in Heaven!” Marjorie exclaimed, snapping Margaret out of her thoughts and drawing her attention away from the room’s grandeur.
“Marjorie, remember your manners,” Margaret warned.
Marjorie’s face turned bright red. “Sorry.”
Mrs. Danton didn’t take time to react to Marjorie’s behavior. She cleared her throat and gave a stern look with her pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Supper is at four. The maids will prepare baths at two-thirty for all of you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Margaret said.
Mrs. Danton curtsied and left the room while the butler and driver dropped their luggage on the floor. When the door clicked behind them, Marjorie’s scream echoed through the spacious room.
“How marvelous is this?” Marjorie plopped onto the bed closest to the wardrobe and sighed. “This can’t be real.”
Evie hugged herself tightly and remained in the same spot since she entered the room. “I wish it wasn’t.”
“This is what I've been waiting for my entire life!” Marjorie screeched. “Can you imagine living here the rest of our days?”
Margaret’s heart dropped at Marjorie’s comment. How could she think of such a thing! “It’s temporary, Marjorie.”
Marjorie exhaled dramatically. “Oh, phooey. Who says we’re going back?”
“Daddy said this was a quick visit,” Evie reminded. “We’ll be gone by the end of the week.”
Marjorie rolled over and balanced her chin on her folded hands, giving a sneaky smile. “If you say so.”
Margaret’s muscles tightened, and she held back her words.
Foolish thoughts! Marjorie was a dreamer and didn’t understand anything besides high fashion.
Did the thought ever cross her mind that their grandfather was passing?
Margaret sighed and pulled back the thick velvet curtains, looking out the mansion from the high point.
The view was breathtaking, of course, but it wasn’t home. How would she survive another day here?
The longer she was away, the emptier she became.
As Collin walked down the long hallway of the east wing, his legs trembled.
The last time he saw his father, he stood up to him with all the gumption he had.
His father was angry and unwilling to give Collin a second chance at redemption for bankrupting the family business.
Collin was no longer his father’s son—just a rag that was useful for a little while but easily disposed of.
What did he have to fear now? He had survived a war.
Nothing was more frightening than stepping onto a battlefield, uncertain whether he’d ever return home.
Collin hated that the world was falling apart and that he’d have to take a responsibility that would take him away from his family, but they were his priority.
He couldn’t let his family down. He had to protect them, even if it meant he’d die for it.
A warm hand curled around Collin’s with a gentle squeeze. He looked over at Anna, whose rosy lips curved into a soft smile. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered.
Collin’s heart thumped harder. Anna. With her alongside him, he was strong. Without her, he’d still be his father’s pawn, bound in chains by duty and carrying out dishonest business dealings. He married Anna to please his father, but it didn’t take long to learn that pleasing him was impossible.
Collin knocked on the door after exhaling. His mother peeked out. “Just a moment.”
As she closed the door, sweat trickled down Collin’s back. He remembered the east wing had a slight draft when he was a boy, but maybe the heat came from his fear.
“Are you still certain you want to do this?” Anna asked him. Her gentle, hazel eyes looked deep into his as she rubbed his arm.
If Collin was truthful, he wanted to leave this nightmare of a place and never return, but it wasn’t right.
It didn’t matter if his father’s actions were discovered to be insincere.
He was still Collin’s father, and his final request was to see him.
But most of all, Collin needed closure. He still had bitterness and anger in his heart.
If even a small chance existed for him to forgive Father, he needed to strive for it.
But could he forgive him if this was a mere trick? Time was running out, and the anger was eating him alive. Collin wanted to be free, to let go of all hatred.
Collin sucked in a breath then exhaled, looking up at Anna’s concerned face. He nodded. “I believe so.”
At last, Mother opened the door and Collin and Anna entered.
Collin removed his hat when his father came into view, appearing small as he laid in the large bed.
Father’s eyes looked as though they had sunken into his skull and his cheekbones protruded to his cheeks’ surface, making him seem more like a corpse than a breathing human being.
Father no longer was the strong and invincible man he claimed to be years ago.
Anna stepped back as Collin walked closer.
His eyes remained fixed, for this scene seemed unreal.
Mother stood beside Collin, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
Collin’s gut twisted as his father made eye contact with him.
His eyes were red and swollen, appearing to have been crying moments ago. His complexion was pale, almost gray.
Who is this man? That was the question circling in the mind of Collin Nicholson.
Nicholsons were to be tough, never seen as weak.
That was what Father had always repeated throughout his life.
He believed their bloodline was like royalty, and they should keep their reputation.
But Collin had disgraced him. And now Collin didn’t regret anything—he was no longer his father’s puppet.
He had become the man he was meant to become, and that man was Anna’s husband, not his father’s son.
“Son . . . is that you?” Father muttered, his weak hand reaching towards him.
Collin stepped back. He didn’t know whether to feel pity or pride at seeing his father this way.
He always hoped his father would suffer because of the pain he had inflicted upon many, but this wasn’t how he should think.
Collin drew in a deep breath. Lord, help me.
Help me look past my bitter heart. Mother burst into tears and hurried out of the room.
Collin turned to Anna, who pointed to the door.
He nodded, giving Anna the cue to follow her.
Collin cleared his throat. “I’m here, Father.”
Father? Saying the world left a bitter taste on his tongue. Collin hadn’t claimed a father in twenty-three years.
Father pointed to a chair beside the bed. “Please sit, son.”
Collin obeyed. The chair was a distance away, but Collin preferred it. He didn’t care for any attachment or intimate contact, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around why he cared to be at his father’s deathbed. Forgiveness, Collin. Remember that.